


you've been planning to remember this

by basketofnovas (slashmarks)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Begging, F/F, Fidelity Magic, Grinding, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, Object Insertion, Punishment, Sex Magic, foot worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmarks/pseuds/basketofnovas
Summary: Sixth year is almost over, and Tracey's not sure if she's more afraid of losing Daphne to marriage or to Voldemort. Daphne has an interesting idea of how to reassure her. Written for Season of Kink, "chastity device/orgasm control."
Relationships: Tracey Davis/Daphne Greengrass
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Season of Kink





	you've been planning to remember this

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Burn Your Life Down" by Tegan and Sara.
> 
> Readers from brilliant difficulty verse, this takes place in a canon compliant timeline but uses the same backstory/characterization for Daphne and Tracey.

"Your ancestors were mental," Tracey said, skimming the Latin script for the third time, now certain she was reading it correctly. "I should have known there would be a spell to stop your wife cheating on you."

"There's an entire library of chastity spellwork," Daphne said, tapping her quill to her lips thoughtfully, eyelashes down as she worked on her History essay. "Why?" 

Daphne was seated in the arched window with her knees covered in her blue nightgown's skirts and her chestnut braids hanging down, and she looked like one of the pictures in the illustrated, muggle copy of _Le Morte D'Arthur_ Tracey had had before school. The quill in her hand and the heavy leather tome in her lap added to the impression. A lady of King Arthur's court. The fact that she was in love with Tracey, of all people, never seemed quite real.

"You could model for Queen Guinevere," Tracey said thoughtlessly. 

"What?" Daphne looked up, finally. "Is that an insinuation?" An eyebrow crept up. 

Purebloods, Tracey reflected, must have some kind of lessons on how to take offense to everything before they started school. "What would I be insinuating?" she said, baffled.

"Sorry, I should have realized you wouldn't." Daphne lowered the book and folded her knees over each other, destroying the illusion. "It's just that you were asking about chastity spellwork, and you know Guinevere was an adulteress."

"Do I know that?" Tracey asked, before her brain caught up with her mouth. "Of course I did, Lancelot. No, I don't think you're cheating on me." She bit back the urge to add, _you're so up front about marrying someone else, after all_. "So, why do you need an entire library of chastity spellwork? Are purebloods women just, all slags?"

Daphne made that little cough-snort that meant she wanted to laugh and didn't think she should. "Well, if you're judging us by Narcissa Black... But, wait one minute, I'll tell you all about it but let me finish writing my conclusion." 

Tracey went back to fighting her way through the Latin. Unlike Daphne, she wasn't taking the History of Magic N.E.W.T. class, so she had her homework for Monday finished. Also unlike Daphne, she hadn't been tutored in Latin by her mother since she was six, so she had to keep working on it if she wanted to stay in practice. Urgh. That noun was in the - accusative? No, the locative...

"--Alright, that's done," Daphne said, and the window nook snapped back into focus: dusty sunlight, the cushions and rugs piled up under them, the smell of Daphne's perfume, normally subtle but suffocating in a tiny space with no draft. Not that Tracey particularly minded drowning in Daphne's perfume. "What were you _reading?_ "

Focus, Trace, she thought and hoisted the book. "Latin exercises," she said. "It's a collection of Wizarding plays in vulgar Latin, mostly twelfth century. The plot of this one is all about this countess with a million lovers, and there's a twist where it turns out the guy who did the marriage spellwork for her husband was sleeping with her and effed up the chastity spells on purpose. That was _really_ a thing?"

"It still is, although it's not as universal as it once was," Daphne said, proving yet again that there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong with all purebloods -- and Tracey had been best friends with one since she was eleven. "Supposedly a lot of people take them off again after marriage, though, especially the more intrusive ones that would make daily life hard."

"Intrusive?" Tracey asked.

"Well, you can't actually just stop a woman from doing anything vaguely sexual. There are too many options. But you can take a number of tacks to try to limit sexual contact - spells that cause pain if a man touches her or alert her husband, spells that suppress sexual arousal _unless_ she's with her husband or until he counters them, spells that require a counter to undress her. Most of them are sort of... either purely symbolic or unrealistic to keep up, though."

Tracey considered this. "Are _you_ going to be under them?" Granted, Daphne probably wouldn't care that much about spellwork meant to stop her touching _men_.

"I hope not," Daphne said. "It's possible, though, depending on who I marry and their family traditions, and how good our negotiating position is. Myrina is, Carya isn't, but that's mostly a matter of their husbands' families - Lady Carrow thinks it's a deplorable and sexist institutions, but the Rosiers haven't bothered to rewrite their standard contract in 120 years."

"What do the ones on Myrina do?" 

Tracey had met Daphne's eldest sister a couple of times, since Daphne somehow talked her mother into letting her take Tracey along as a guest at pureblood parties. Tracey had suspected that Daphne was taking revenge on her for something and not admitting it the first time, but eventually Daphne had admitted she wanted Tracey to be seen as an acceptable companion by the time she got married, and _that_ required people to have a sense of who she was and think of her as an insider. 

(Tracey wasn't yet touching Daphne's assumption that of course Tracey would sneak around with her after Daphne got married. She had realized by now that that was just how purebloods thought, and as frustration as Daphne insisting she had to get married was, the new possibility that instead Daphne was going to become a Death Eater didn't really seem better.)

"One of the milder options, basically any man who isn't specifically exempted and touches her - well, vulva, will get a blinding migraine that gets worse the longer it goes on. It doesn't take revenge on Myrina, or alert her husband a breach occurred, so Myrina didn't think it was worth arguing with."

Tracey considered that. "So she can still technically cheat as long as she only has anal or oral sex. And fingers herself off, I guess."

"Can we please not discuss my sister's sexual acts?" Daphne said. "I've heard you can get around that spell with a painkiller potion, anyway. But, yes, the Rosiers are primarily concerned with tainting the bloodline."

At least, after enough years of arguing with Tracey, Daphne said that part sarcastically.

"They can't just institute paternity testing or something?"

"They could, but it wouldn't do much good, since undetectable paternity spellwork was invented a few centuries ago," Daphne said. "The women are winning this particular arms race, as it happens." She had also learned the phrase 'arms race' from Tracey.

"The arms race of... sexual fidelity," Tracey said. Daphne nodded. " _Mental_ ," she concluded. "How much longer do we have on your break timer?"

"Fifteen minutes," Daphne said, barely glancing at it.

"Fancy snogging?" Tracey said, and tugged on Daphne's ankle when she nodded. "C'mere, join me on the floor?"

The study nook was cramped for extended sessions, but it could be sort of cozy for a while. Daphne's braids were shredding a bit, especially at the base, fine hairs at her neck falling out and plastered with sweat. Tracey licked her neck below them, tasting the salt, and felt Daphne shudder.

Getting undressed in the cramped space - especially getting _Daphne_ undressed - would be more trouble than it was worth, especially when they only had - Tracey glanced up - five more minutes, but if she shifted her knees around she could set up Daphne to rub against her through the skirts. Although if anyone stepped on the alarm outside the tapestry door they'd have a time of it untangling themselves in time to look decent. Curious, Tracey said, "Would _this_ set off that spell?"

"Seeing as you're not a man, no," Daphne gasped after a moment, doing an impressively athletic arching thing with her spine to press more of the line of her vulva into Tracey's leg. "If you're asking if, I don't know, Theodore Nott would set this off--"

They burst into slightly mad giggles at that idea.

"--I haven't the faintest clue, or interest."

"Imagine," Tracey said, feeling suddenly inspired. "These spells - they're done before marriage but they're not bound _by_ marriage, right?"

"N-no, I mean I haven't looked up how to cast them or anything. But people use them on their concubines and girlfriends... Trace, why are you not touching me?"

"You're so greedy," Tracey said, rocking into Daphne and reaching a hand under the straps of her nightgown to get at her much less protected chest. "But imagine if I cast one on you _before_ your wedding and your husband couldn't--"

Daphne caught where Tracey was going and erupted into red-faced giggles, rocking frenetically into her leg.

"--Couldn't manage to--" Tracey said, and then Daphne was bucking her hips, eyes shut hard, and collapsing back to the rug-piled floor. 

Tracey dropped down over her and rolled onto her side, pulling her against her chest. "Shh, love. Shh." The left braid was a lost cause; Tracey started unfastening it while Daphne lay limp on the floor.

"There's - there's one that makes the man impotent," Daphne said, eventually.

"Hm?"

"Chastity spells - there's one that just, makes it so that anyone who touches your wife loses his erection immediately. Imagine if you cast _that_ on me before my wedding."

Tracey made a strangled noise. "'I don't know, honey,'" she said, affecting a deep voice. "'It's never happened before!'"

"'You're lying, you think I'm ugly!'" Daphne said in a screechy falsetto, and they both started laughing again. "--You can't, there'd be no point in getting married, I'd be divorced so fast--"

"Maybe I _should_ ," Tracey said, nuzzling the top of her head. "How are the casting instructions? Is it something I could conceivably pull off in your sleep?"

"Without Pansy screeching about you disturbing her beauty rest, you mean?" Daphne said. "I'd better make sure the books on it are all hidden before you find out."

"Mm. Just in case my jealousy drives me mad," Tracey agreed. "Better burn them."

"Throw them in the lake."

"Feed them to one of Hagrid's pets," Tracey said, and the timer went off, and they somehow had to pick themselves up and go back to homework.

Sixth year exams weren't as important as last year or next year, but they were still a factor in whether you were allowed to continue your classes, even if Tracey and Daphne weren't among the students retaking O.W.L.s. 

They only had about a month and a half left, so Tracey barely noticed Daphne adding some odder books to her research sessions, except to wonder if she was doing some kind of History of Magic project. Daphne had been known to write wildly off topic essays at three times the required length just to make a point about Binns to the professors who were stuck grading work for him. It was, Daphne had remarked last year, almost certainly why she hadn't made Prefect.

("That or it's the time you cursed Draco with permanent silence and they had to call in an actual Curse-Breaker to get it _off_ ," Tracey had said at the time.

"They never proved that was me," Daphne said. "It's not on my record. Otherwise I'd be in Azkaban, not denied Prefect status."

"Yes, and no one ever convicted your mum of anything, either," Tracey muttered, but Daphne pretended not to hear.)

She was therefore a little surprised when Daphne crawled into her bed at the crack of down one day in late May, straddled her, and dropped a scroll on her face.

"Huu-argh?" Tracey mumbled, cracking her eyes open. A shaft of wandlight went down the side of her body. Butterscotch silk and lace drowned her flannel pajama pants and old football shirt. She was pretty sure Daphne was enjoying that Voldemort bankrolling her mum meant she could dress in as many yards of expensive fabric as she'd pictured in her little girl dreams. "Daffy Daphne. It's like, four AM."

"For your perusal," Daphne said, shoved the scroll into her hand, and rolled off her.

"Um, okay," Tracey said, unwound it, and blinked. Written in Daphne's perfect handwriting at the top was _Simple Chastity Spellwork._

The scroll appeared to be a list. 

" _Um_ ," Tracey said.

"It's all stuff I could get off if I wanted to. Most chastity spellwork is, really, it's just that you've got to explain that to your husband if he notices. Just in case you felt like a secret night time visit," Daphne said, grinned, and ducked back out of the curtains.

"Kinky," Tracey called after her. Then she sat up as Daphne vanished into her bed. "Daphne?"

"Would you _shut up_ , lesbos," Pansy snarled predictably from behind her velvet curtains. Darling Draco had had a lot less time for her this year, and she was correspondingly worse tempered than usual.

"That's Madam Lesbo to you," Daphne said to Pansy, half opening her curtains. "--Trace?"

"Hang on, I'm coming. We'll put up a Silencing Charm," Trace called to Pansy's huffy sigh, and yanked the curtains shut on Daphne's bed to follow her word.

"What?" Daphne said, smirk fading slightly as Tracey settled on the bed and leaned over, looking her in the eyes.

They kissed. Daphne melted into her readily; in the middle of the night she was pliable and soft in a way she never was, couldn't be, in the day. When they had been little kids, back in first year, Tracey had abused this tendency by getting Daphne to share home made sweet packages and explain the weird references their classmates made when no one else was awake to overhear in the dorm. When they got older...

Daphne's breath was coming faster and faster; the nightgown was flimsy between them and, where the skirts were ground between Daphne's thighs, soaking wet. It would have been easy to push it up, thrust her fingers into Daphne or bury her face there, and let the conversation be totally forgotten.

Tracey groaned into Daphne one last time for the night and pulled back.

"Look," she said, looking over her girlfriend in the wandlight: butterscotch silk setting off the red undertones in her ruffled chestnut hair, neckline displaying everything Daphne had to advertise on the marriage markets; she was pureblood but poor as dirt, poor enough _Tracey_ split her pocket money with her so she could get sundaes in Diagon Alley while they shopped for school and coffee occasionally in Hogsmeade. Voldemort's return had given her mother spending money, but it wouldn't make her a Malfoy or a Nott in financial terms. She still had nothing to offer a husband but her body and maybe, depending on how things went, You-Know-Who's favor.

Daphne was flung back on the pillow, and she turned her face half away in the face of Tracey's serious tone. She thought about folding, going back to the quickie Pansy was undoubtedly furiously imagining, but they were so close to summer, both seventeen, and beyond the end of exams...

"Daphne, we need to talk."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Daphne muttered, pulling her skirts straight. She fished her wand from below her pillow to vanish the evidence of her arousal. "Look, Trace, if the spells upset you..."

"Let me finish," Tracey said, touching one of the rumpled braids where it lay over Daphne's hip. "I mean, maybe this is just a kink thing. You're allowed to have kink things, we can do kink things together. But I have a feeling you're asking about this because you want me to stop you getting married, and that's... Not a kink thing, Daphne."

"It can totally be a kink thing," Daphne said, eyes closed, but apparently the weight of Tracey's disapproving stare hit her because she sighed without Tracey having to say anything else. "I _know_. I just..."

"Just?" Tracey leaned over, stroking Daphne's flushed cheek. The skin was so soft.

"I asked Mum to find me a gay fiance," Daphne confessed in a rush. "I told her I wanted children. I'm not baby _obsessed_ like Carya but I got on with Aster well enough, so she didn't argue. I met with Tiberius Burke over Christmas - he's a few years older than us - and he seems alright..."

"Daphne, slow down," Tracey said. " _Slow down_. You know you don't have to marry a man to have kids?" Especially not a pedigreed pureblood man, she thought, but her head was spinning. She hadn't had any idea Daphne had someone _specific_ in mind. Probably because Daphne hadn't wanted her to argue.

"Of course I don't." Daphne cracked an eye. "I do have to marry a man - and probably get pregnant quickly - to avoid being asked to take the Dark Mark, though."

"Daphne," Tracey said, and stopped. "I..."

"I know," Daphne whispered, and turned her face into the pillow and muffled something that might've been a scream or a sob or a whimper, and said, "Can we _please_ just let it be a kink thing, Trace? Pretty please?" when she came up for air.

"Yeah." Tracey swallowed, voice cracking. "Yeah, okay. Which one do you want me to cast?"

They went down the list for options that were easy to turn into a game, until they settled on one that told the caster any time Daphne touched a man, gender determined by reference to Daphne's mind. 

Of course it went off often: Daphne sat on the benches in the Great Hall between Draco and Theo, brushed against Michael Corner getting through the library door, fended off shoulder pats from Slughorn. Tracey made a list over the course of the week and cornered Daphne with it Friday night in one of their other, larger hiding places.

"Oh, no." Daphne smirked up at Tracey. She had already opened her school robes, and the split in the black wool revealed an undyed cotton shift, fabric so thin Tracey could see her navel. If the school robes gaped just a few inches wider her nipples would show, too. "Have I betrayed your trust?"

Oh, Merlin. Maybe this game wasn't such a good idea.

"I don't know." Tracey squinted at her, standing just inside the door. "Have you?"

"I beg your mercy," Daphne said, and fell, unbidden, to kiss the tip of Tracey's leather slippers. (Purchased in Diagon Alley in a style Daphne had told her would pass well among purebloods). Tracey's breath caught. The slippers were made soft and thin, so that she could feel Daphne's lips through them, a little - enough that Daphne could feel her react, too, could roll her eyes up to look at her face and lick the top of the slipper, teasing.

"Brat," Tracey said, voice shaking with arousal. The anger that flared was real, and frightening, but talking about it more wouldn't do any good. Venting it might, just. "Get up and finish undressing."

"My lady," Daphne said, voice full of insinuations; but the way she got up from prostration on the ground was too practiced.

"Bend over the table," Tracey said.

"Are you going to spank me?" Daphne said, going a little too slow to be obedient, sounding a little too much like she was trying not to laugh.

Tracey's eyes flitted over the study supplies, their bags, the puddle of clothing discarded on the floor. "No," she said, suddenly inspired, and picked up the water flask from Daphne's bag. It was made of smooth, hardened leather and an appropriate shape, but the rounded end was just wider than anything they'd used before; and of course Daphne would think of this every time she drank out of it, and was probably still too money shy to "lose" it and write home for a replacement. "I'm going to fuck you with everything in your bag that's shaped for it. One object every time. We'll start with this."

Daphne gave a little moan and raised her hips, maybe as another tease, maybe unconsciously. Tracey shifted the bottle in her hand and traced, in her mind, the syllables of the Lubricant Charm before she cast it.

It took a long time and a lot of patient, gentle stretching to get the bottle into her girlfriend's cunt; but the way Daphne nearly sobbed, fingers digging into the edge of the table, was worth the restraint.

They kept going over the list of offenses, once per week, for the rest of term. Daphne seemed oblivious to any tension in the course of her dramatic apologies, but Tracey had a hard time wiping the discussion about the Dark Mark from her recollections of the spell. If it made her nastier in the course of devising punishments, Daphne didn't seem to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this? [Reblog it](https://slashmarks.tumblr.com/post/628485091134472193/youve-been-planning-to-remember-this) on tumblr, or come talk to me!


End file.
